


pilot

by madrox (ramathorne), nni



Series: take twoniverse [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Kink, M/M, Other, Swearing, and axton is anything but vanilla, that's it that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramathorne/pseuds/madrox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nni/pseuds/nni
Summary: Axton gets a little more mileage out of that trade-off than he thought he did. Zer0 says something 'buttfuckingly obnoxious'. Maya tries to weigh the pros and cons of levelling an entire planet just so people stop talking about the cut of her jumpsuit.
Relationships: Axton/Zer0 (Borderlands)
Series: take twoniverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698136
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	pilot

**Author's Note:**

> ramathorne says: i tried with midgemong. i really, really tried

He can pinpoint the exact moment he'd started paying way too much attention to the way Zer0 handles guns, actually. It's pretty early into their run together, just after they'd defeated that giant ass bullymong that had stolen Claptrap's eye. There had been something else shiny hanging from around its neck; a Dahl pistol with an elemental decal and a small sight down the barrel. It looked badass, was even his _brand_ , and Axton was reaching for it-- when that goddamn biker asshole used his four finger discount to swipe it out from under him.

"Mine," Zer0 says, simply.

"Oh come _on_ ," Axton snaps, his teeth chattering. If he weren't freezing his goddamn nuts off he would have reacted sooner. "I don't even have a gun yet!"

Maya grunts behind him. "Didn't you have a rocket launcher?" and she says it in this real nasty tone of voice-- mocking, like she's still sore about something. That something is probably the fact that back in that killing floor of a train car she'd dodged his last shot by the skin of her teeth. Look, he’d _swear_ she hadn’t been there a second ago, okay?

"As you so clearly remember, I used it on those friggin' bots," he argues back, his eyes still on Zer0. The bastard is inspecting the decal. "I had one shot left!"

"A lucky shot, yeah," Maya snorts under her breath, derisive. Mini-Man--sorry, his name is Salvador-- guffaws behind her, which just can't do. If Axton just had a gun-- any gun, even just a pistol-- he'd be able to show them what he was really made of. Even in the military, Axton could outshoot anyone with his hands behind his back. He did it _frequently_ , to the chagrin of his fellow soldiers. And his commanding officers. Including his wife. ...Ex-wife.

"Look, sweetheart," he says to Zer0, and _that_ was a mistake-- he puts his hands up as soon as it's out of his mouth, the harsh light of the other's LED flashing a warning at him. Noted: sweet talking the assassin is a bad idea. "Okay, not-sweetheart," he amends. "I’d rather be pulling my weight around here. It's a fuckin' pistol," --albeit a fantastic looking one-- "You're barely gonna miss it. Now how's about you rag off to ya, rodeo cock nut, algae."

Which of course, isn't actually what he says, but he sees the way Zer0 caresses the hammer of the gun with one long, strange finger, and his brain thoughts split directly in half, eliminating his capacity for human speech.

Maya says something to him but she sounds miles away. The rest of Axton's nonsense words die in his throat as he hones the fuck in on Zer0 gently squeezing the trigger, knowing how his finger is just millimeters away from pulling it. It looks elemental-- fire? Corrosive? Something that'd burn his skin right off if Zer0 thought to press it into the hollow of his chin.

Oh, fuck.

The blood pounds in his ears. He feels his face get a little hot from how Zer0 turns the gun over and over in his hands, testing its weight with a firm, sure grip. Oh fuck, he thinks. Fuck, he'd do anything for this tall, looming assassin to press that gun against his throat. 

Suddenly, despite the hailstorm and arctic temperature, Axton is very, _very_ warm.

"Axton!" Maya snaps, and he blinks rapidly, thrown from his stark, vivid fantasy. "That _is_ your name, right?"

"What?!" he manages.

"Your turret gun, you freak," she asks, irritated. "Is it still busted?"

"Yes, _she is_ , which is why I want that friggin' pistol!" he grinds out, and does _not_ turn around and show Maya just what kind of freak he is. He's got more sense in him than to face her head on with the makings of a gun-induced half-chub.

"Fine. Zer0," Maya jerks her head in his direction, "Give it to him." He winces internally-- really coulda done with some different phrasing right about now. "He's obviously worthless without a firearm."

After a pause (one where Axton begins to sweat, because _he knows_ , somehow, Zer0 knows exactly what’s gone through Axton’s head in the last thirty seconds) the assassin begrudgingly holds it in the space between them. Axton tries to tug it away. Zer0 refuses to let go on the first, second, or third try-- and Axton isn’t exactly going easy on him. Along with his newfound realization of _oh no, he's hot_ , that iron grip is doing uncomfortable things to his insides, christ, Zer0, just let go of the goddamn gun!

"Zer0," Maya warns behind him.

"Yeah, Zer0," Axton chokes out, and hopes no one will comment on how his voice cracks.

Zer0 relents, to his relief, and fizzles out of sight. There's a tense moment between the three of them where they're not sure if the guy is gonna pop back out and stab them together like a shish kebab, but when it becomes clear that the assassin is merely skulking (and sulking), they start the trek towards Liar's Berg.

Thank god for that, Axton remembers thinking. He's ready to put the whole incident behind him.

Too bad it happens a second time.

# \---

This time, he makes the mistake of giving Zer0 a gun.

It's not long after they meet Hammerlock and get Claptrap fixed that the guy sends them off to kill something called a Midgemong. Axton's not into it-- really, he's about to want to call it a day-- but then Hammerlock promises to repair his baby upon their return, and he kind of _needs_ his baby if he's gonna keep up with a cloaking assassin, a gunzerker, and an honest to god siren (who knew they were even _real?)_.

So they go kill Midgemong. Or at least, they try to kill Midgemong. Midgemong happens to be a small man strapped onto a large bullymong, and that means they have both dual-wielding shotguns _and_ the ability to jump ten feet in a single leap.

"--GET READY TO FEEL MY FINGERS IN YOUR EYEBALLS!" the midge screams, from atop the mong, and lunges at Axton for the bajillionth time. Axton just barely manages to dive for cover behind a scrap wall, bolting when he hears the loud _thump_ of the bullymong land just on the other side.

"He's too fast!" he yells. He can't even get a shot off with the bastards aggro'd on him. He does barely get away when Maya does that weird phaselock thing, buying him some time to (shamelessly) hide under a stairway to the upper level and fumble for his Jakobs sniper. He's never liked snipers-- too much aiming, not enough shooting-- but for this guy, he'll make an exception.

Or he would if he could stop feeling like someone was breathing down his neck.

"Zer0?" he asks the emptiness, and bangs his head on the stairwell when the assassin materializes out of thin air, soulless helmet inches from his face. "Fuck," he snarls, cheeks growing hot. "Don’t do that!"

"Distract the monkey." Zer0 fucking _purrs_ , one hand out. Yeah, he knows what he did. "Oh, and the sniper rifle / I'll take that, thank you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Axton says. " _You_ go distract the damn monkey! You're the one with the fancy holograms!"

Zer0 scoffs. "No," he says, and keeps his hand expectantly held out. Axton sputters.

"Guys?" Maya asks, through their communicator. "This guy is… heavy…!"

"--GONNA FLOSS WITH YOUR SPINE!"

"--I can't hold him much longer," she grits out, sounding strained. And pissed. Mostly pissed. "Can you stop braiding each other's hair and get out from under there? Where's Salvador?!"

"BUSY!" Salvador bellows, and through the comm comes the tinny noise of echoing gunfire and mangled screams. "DIE!" he roars in their ears. "DIE, YOU PINCHE BANDITOS!"

"Axton!" Maya hisses.

"--Just give me a goddamn second!" Axton shouts. and then to Zer0, "Will you fucking _cooperate_ already?!"

"A gun for a gun," Zer0 replies, irritatingly calm. "Or, I could just kill you here. / I’d feel no remorse."

Axton bares his teeth. Does he get shanked by a greedy haiku-spouting assassin under a stairwell, or does he get his shit ripped apart by a freak and his monkey?

"Fine," he snaps, and shoves his callipeen into the assassin's arms before vaulting out from behind the steps. "Hey, you ugly little shits," he barks, "Here I am! Let 'em go, Maya!"

He’s guessing the angry yelp he hears over the echo right before the earth-shaking _boomf_ of the scrappy mong landing a startlingly few feet away means it stepped on something vital of hers before launching itself at him. He’ll pay for that, he knows he will, but he also knows he’s saving her damn life in the process, so she can suck it up.

"Your momma sure taught you right to ride your own kind," He taunts, and when Midgemong screams in rage Axton runs like he's never run before. He sprints and leaps and dodges heaping scraps of metal being flung at him, making a beeline for where he spots Zer0 reappear, sniper steadied against his shoulder.

It almost happens in slow motion, the way he works that pump action rifle. Zer0 shoots once, the bullet whizzing _just_ past Axton's head and straight through the bullymong's skull, knocking its trajectory off-kilter and causing it to crumple into a heap on his left side. The midge part of the mong keeps screaming, thrown from his lofty perch, and Axton doesn't even bother trying to hide his shock as Zer0 pulls the bolt action back and shoots once more with practiced ease. The second bullet grazes his cheek as the midge's head explodes in a burst of brains and blood, spattering his whole side, but Axton hardly notices it. He's too busy watching Zer0's whole body rock back with the recoil, rolling sinuous and filthy like sex.

He can't help it. He gawks.

"Uh," he says, and he feels the blood rush to his face _and_ his dick 'cause he's got no shame. Zer0 tilts his head at him, and Axton just. Stands there, mortified.

"Good," Holy shit, say something, you idiot. Stop staring at his hands. He could kill you barehanded and you gifted him a goddamn sniper rifle. Stop stop stop. "Good, ah. Good shot...s. Shots, plural."

Zer0's LED flashes a devilish " **> :)**". His finger caresses the trigger. Axton gulps, and tries not to look too shady when Zer0 tilts his head.

"You better have blown their brains out," Maya grumps, from wherever she is. Axton sees her shock of blue hair pop up from behind a spare barrel. "I think his mong's stank-ass foot ruptured my spleen."

"Brains confirmed," Zer0 drones. He stands there, helmet blank, then shoulder checks Axton on his way up to the Bizarre, which has gone eerily quiet. Axton is relieved for the distraction, and the dismissal. It means that Zer0 hasn't quite figured him out yet, he thinks.

"Sal?" he croaks. "You okay up there, buddy?"

"Oye, I'm good, homie!" Salvador says cheerfully. The front of his shirt is positively spattered with bloodspray. "You might wanna come up here, though. They got all sorts'a booze! This bizarre is _awesome_!"

"What," Maya asks, "You mean the bar?"

"Das what I said, ain't it?"

From behind him Axton sees Maya open her mouth, one finger in the air. Then on her better judgement, she closes it and drops her hand back to her side.

Axton gives her a look, a shrug, and starts up the stairway.

Hell knows _he_ needs a drink or six.

# \---

Much to his dismay, there is a third time. And a fourth time. And a fifth, and a sixth, because it's getting to the point that every time Zer0 so much as holds a weapon Axton starts staring.

He knows he has a problem, but he can't fucking help himself-- the way Zer0 holds guns is _different_. Salvador and Maya? They carry guns just fine. But Sal's been playing with guns since he was in diapers, treats them like toys in his meaty mitts. Maya holds her guns like the weapons they're made to be: feared, not just by her enemies but by her as well.

Zer0 though, he holds them like art. Like they're an extension of himself, like he was made to hold them, instead of the other way around. Axton isn’t good with words, but if you gave him a month and a dictionary he might be able to come close to describing how guns in the hands of the right people make him feel. 

But he would rather _get_ off than go off-- and that's probably why it all came to a head that night. Yeah, _that_ night, where Axton made some spectacularly bad decisions on his part, trading away his best sniper only to be left kneeling in the dirt with the pieces of his dignity laid bare and splintered in the face of the assassin.

Thankfully, he doesn't have time to think about how badly he's fucked up _that_ new and budding relationship. Not until they get to Sanctuary, at least-- because right up until then they're too busy hijacking a car from bandits, picking up a seventeen-year-old self-titled mechromancer, avenging a lieutenant and joining the Crimson Raiders.

Which, yeah, he'll get back to that later. Because Sanctuary is, by far, not the nicest place Axton's ever called home, but it definitely ain't the worst, either. They have beds, and food, and, most importantly, he finally, _finally_ has the chance to spend some quality time alone. With himself. With walls and no freaky AI cameras pointing down at him from space and an actual _door_ keeping the outside world _outside_.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that he's not warming up to his new… team, used in the loosest sense of the word. They're fine, for the most part, and he thinks one or two of them (read: Salvador and Gaige) are even beginning to _like_ him, so that's pretty cool.

It's just that being together with them every waking moment gets a little claustrophobic. Reminds him of his time in the military, boxed in cars together, packed like sardines. He was just starting to get used to all the _freedom_ he had on his own until now.

Freedom, for example, to have a _really_ nice jerk off session like the grown man he is, not sneaking around like some teenager afraid of being caught. No more quiet squeezing in a cramped sleeping bag, no more rushed, frantic handies on his watch-- he has needs, okay, and while he would prefer someone else take care of them, he's not ashamed of getting the job done himself.

So yeah, now that they're back at home-sweet-base with some actual fucking downtime, leaving the higher-ups (and isn't _that_ word a throwback) to figure out their next step, that's exactly what he's gonna do.

He double, triple, quadruple checks the door to make sure it's locked, and once he's vaulted onto the bed he doesn't even bother to warm up the single-use tube of lube he'd talked himself into buying from one of Zed's med machines; just lies down, already hard, shucks off his pants, and squirts it out into his palms, reveling in the shiver the cold brings as one of his hands closes around the head of his dick. It slides down easy, makes him groan and buck up into his clenching fist, because it feels _so much better_ when it's not just the drag of dry, desperate skin on skin. This time, with one long, sharp tug, he twists his wrist on the way up, slips his other hand down to cup his balls and _squeeze_ , and when he slips a digit into himself at the same time he gives his dick another languid stroke, he can swear he sees stars.

It's one of those moments; the ones where you don't realize just how bad you missed something until you _have_ it. The pulse and pull of muscle around his finger, the burn as he's stretched more than he expects but less than he wants-- _needs_ , if he feels like being brutally fucking honest-- it almost doesn’t seem real. Like he’s gone without for so long, this must just be another dream, another midday fantasy, that if he lets himself think too hard it’ll dissolve right before his eyes.

That is, until his thumb catches over the tender, sensitive tip of his dick, smears slick and pre-cum over the head before he, in one smooth motion, pumps again. It sends him shuddering and flipping over, burying his face in the pillows and another finger in his ass, fucking down through his fist against the worn cotton sheets. He feels his dick twitch in his hand, bouncing heavy between him and the bed, and he growls, makes this muffled, shaking noise into the fabric-- he can allow himself that much, at least, with a room all to his own. Being quiet is easy-- sharing quarters with fifteen other soldiers on a _good_ day did wonders for teaching him how to keep his big mouth shut-- it's keeping still that's the hard part. It's been so long since he's paid his dick this kind of attention, the kind of attention it _deserves_ , that every flick of his wrist has him nearly thrashing off the mattress, gasping softly into the pillow case.

Softly enough that he can still hear the low, rusty _clank_ of his bedroom door unlocking, scraping against the jamb as it pops open. 

Axton whips around, gawking as Zer0 enters, saying something buttfuckingly obnoxious like "A door, subtly locked / suspicious, intriguing, but / mostly annoying," and if Axton were in a better frame of mind (aka somewhere inside his head instead of 2000 gigameters in the atmosphere) he might have correctly translated it to _hi, why the fuck did you think a door would stop anyone on Pandora from coming in?_ Which might be a valid point, if he'd thought to factor in _this_ asshole's complete and total disregard for basic human decency.

"What the _fuck_ ," he stutters. "What the _fuck!"_ Because his _dick's_ out, his fingers are jammed up his ass, and there's a terrifyingly competent and hot assassin staring down at him with the slightest tilt of his head, in this way that suggests that he's debating on which way to slice him up for subjecting him to such a sight. As if he's never heard of _knocking_.

Zer0 is just standing there, almost expectantly-- there's a few seconds between where neither of them say a word, and Axton's brain has a chance to reboot enough to hastily cover himself with the blanket and demand that he "--SHUT THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

Which, to Zer0's credit, he does-- it's just that he stays on the wrong side of it, deliberately leaning backwards against the steel until the latch clicks shut, giving Axton what he thinks is the other's equivalent of a stink eye-- his long neck turning his head up and slightly left to stare him down.

His dick twitches a little at that.

Axton is mortified.

"I meant _get out,_ " he hears himself say, his voice growing fainter and fainter when he realizes Zer0 is doing the impossible and _approaching_ him, prowling like a jungle cat, long limbed and slow and smooth. He stalks his way across the floor until personal space is just a myth and Axton is left with his chest heaving, staring into that big black void of a visor. He can feel Zer0's eyes on him through it, sweeping along the line of his body as he curls over him, kneeling onto the bed, which probably shouldn't be making his dick jump against his belly, but considering his current track record with Zer0 it's nothing surprising. Axton stares, eyes huge, as Zer0's helmet finally focuses back on his face and the HUD flicks to life.

" **LOL** ," it mocks, in its stupid fucking red font." **WTF**."

Axton, because he is a mature twenty-six year old, flips him off in return with the fingers that aren't still buried knuckle-deep in his ass. Which on second thought, is a piss poor idea, and his hand darts back to shield his poor cock. Zer0 stares down at him, tilting his head again, and if Axton wasn't red in the face before he certainly is now.

“Fuck you," he snaps, and adjusts the covers. If he's gonna be in this situation, he might as well at least _try_ and make himself comfortable. It seems pretty clear that Zer0 has no intent of leaving any time soon, which means it's understandable for Axton to sound a _little_ irritable when he asks, "What are you even _doing_ here?" and gestures with damn near his entire body toward the door. The door that had been _locked_ , fuck you very much.

Zer0's head swivels, and Axton follows his line of sight right over to where his muted ECHOcomm lies abandoned, blinking cheerily about his six missed messages.

_Ping._

Ah, seven.

"Oh," Axton says, eloquently. He makes an aborted motion towards it, like he's going to grab for the communicator-- then he shifts _just_ right on the fingers in his ass, sends quiet, racing tingles up the base of his spine, and he grits his teeth against the noise that wrangles itself in his throat.

Zer0 just stares at him all the while, and Axton _hates_ , he really hates that helmet, you know? He wants to see what kind of expression is on the bastard's face. Is he interested or disgusted? Is he looking for weaknesses, for imperfections? Is he wondering what kind of fucked up fantasy Axton's made for himself _this_ time?

Well, what the fuck ever. If he's looking, he isn’t going to find anything wrong-- especially with Axton's movie star abs. Months of being on the run has sculpted his body into a lean, mean machine.

He reaches for the ECHOcomm again, setting it in his lap to scroll through:

**Salvador** : ey hmie we go dinnur n drinkz wat u want??  
**Salvador** : astn???  
**Salvador** : cbron puta wey we eat famlie like u gt ur ass don hr  
**Salvador** : VTE SU CULO AKIA ORA

 **Maya** : Hey where are you  
**Maya** : Fuckhead I'm starving and Sal won't let us eat without you, come to Moxxi's or I will stick my claws up there and puppet you down here myself

 **Gaige** : u might wanna hide zer0 went looking for u

Axton sighs. _Too late_ , he attempts to eke out one-handed, but his thumb is too fat for the keys and he ends up with a jumbled mess of consonants and semicolons.

"--A gun," Zer0 says above him suddenly, tilting his head the other way.

Axton stops his futile attempt at typing on the ECHOcomm and squints hard at Zer0 as he puts it aside. "What?" he says, slowly.

"You don't have a gun," Zer0 repeats, simply, and in the next split second presses his Maliwan pistol to Axton's neck.

Axton's brain short circuits. Oh shit, oh _shit._ Zer0 came looking for him to put his _lights out._ He grunts and his free hand flies up to grip at Zer0's wrist instinctively, to twist it and maybe point the gun back at the assassin _about to kill him_ , but Zer0's got the advantage of both limbs on his side. His other hand shoves Axton down against the mattress, hard, makes the arm behind him twist in a way that has him seeing both good _and_ bad stars, and he gasps.

"God, the _fuck_ Zer0--!"

Zer0 doesn't respond verbally, just flashes that LED at him once more, ellipses scrolling across the screen before they disappear. He squeezes the trigger just enough to bring the pistol humming to life and Axton stills, terrified, his heart beating jack-rabbit fast. He doesn't dare kick out, doesn't dare scream, if only to retain what's left of his dignity. He knows a losing battle when he sees one, and boy does he see one reflected in the stark nothing of Zer0's black helmet.

What an idiot he is, not thinking to keep a gun near his bedside even with a locked door. He'd gotten soft over these past few, what, days? Weeks? Days are weeks here on Pandora. Regardless, he's gotten used to letting other people watch his back again, complacent with the thought that they were all in this together.

He lets out a soft noise when Zer0 jabs the pistol hard against his throat, swallowing around a shaking breath. He feels the catch of the muzzle against the bob of his adam's apple-- feels it slide up the tendon of his neck and press right up against his lips, where his teeth click shut, and thinks, this is it. This is where he dies. Not at the Vault, not in the army, not by any of the weird irradiated psychopaths running around this planet like bulls in a china shop-- no, in some fucked up twist of fate he’s going out straddled by an assassin in a bed that’s been "his" all of five minutes with two of his own fingers jammed up his asshole.

If he had to pick a silver lining, it’d be that this is probably in his, like, top five ways to kick it.

Zer0 adjusts his weight on the bed, dragging him out of his thoughts and into the present where he’s lying there, heart hammering, with a gun pressed to his lips and the threat of a shock bullet singing through his teeth. The crisp smell of ozone is suffocating, thick and heavy and clouding his head. But, miraculously, Zer0 doesn't shoot, and Axton finds it in himself to think, "What the fuck?" because he's pretty damn _sure_ he should have been dead by now.

"Mmph," he says, after a moment of stillness, and tries to open his mouth to speak. As if on cue, Zer0 eases the gun past his lips, his line of sight intensely focused, and now it's not just the charge of the Maliwan sending Axton's head spinning.

Really, what the _fuck?_

He freezes and, "Continue," Zer0 demands, mildly, as if their situation was anything but FUBAR. As if he weren't looming over Axton, who has a gun in his mouth and his dick on display. 

Slowly, cautiously, he plucks his fingers from Zer0’s wrist, hovers over it for a brief moment. _No sudden moves_ , he reminds himself. "Mmh?" he garbles around the barrel, fingers inching down to the worn fabric of his shirt and slowly, slowly trailing downward because somehow at this point he’s— it seems pretty obvious, right? Zer0 apparently wants an encore. He must have done _something_ right to warrant that.

Now that he knows he isn't going to get _dead_ (and if he is, may as well go down swingin’) he’s more into it, can _let_ himself be into it— the gun warm and heavy as he hesitantly tongues the muzzle. It vibrates between his teeth, and he's being so, so careful not to jar Zer0's fingers as he laves attention along the underside, the taste of batteries and copper blooming over his tongue. His hips jolt as his hand begins to move, and if he shifts just right he can graze that sweet spot inside of him with the other, so he does just that.

His eyes flutter shut on their own when Zer0 pulls the gun from his mouth, and Axton chases after it before he even registers what he's doing, gaze half lidded and panting for breath. “We were just gettin' started,” he says, breathlessly, but doesn't complain when the wet point of the pistol presses itself back up against his jugular. He appreciates it, even, as his hand begins to work up and down his cock in earnest, sweat beading at his upper lip from the effort. He licks it away and doesn't miss how Zer0's head tilts to the side, watching him. Zer0 is _here_ , stroking the barrel of a gun along his skin, watching his face so intently that Axton, a grown fucking man, can't help but blush-- the red spreading from his cheeks all the way down his neck.

“A strange commando,” Zer0 murmurs. “He who craves a little death / and chases a gun.”

Axton means to say something biting back at that, but all he does is flat out moan as Zer0 presses him back against the pillows, ignoring the way his arm protests the angle. 

“But what is his game? / Does he even possess shame? / Why does it happen?”

“Well what's _your_ game,” Axton shoots back, eyes screwed shut, every fiber of his being focused on two main things: the whirring charge of the pistol and that pinpoint tingling spot inside of him. He strains to stretch himself with another finger, slick with sweat and lube, twisting all the way around and curling his toes underneath the blankets. “You --ah-- told me to fuck off last night.”

Zer0 shakes his head, slowly. “...I'd asked, 'are you done?' / Evidently, you were not.”

Axton's brain goes, one, two, seven-- then he gives up on counting syllables. He gives up on attempting to decipher any bit of Zer0's cryptic not-a-dismissal bullshit, and decides to use his head for better ventures that involve much less thinking, such as turning and deliberately licking over the sight of Zer0's Maliwan. He shudders into his next thrust as he does it once more, pressing his tongue to the warming steel before taking the gun into his mouth yet again. The barrel slips past his lips, over his tongue, in time with the pump of his hand and he damn near shivers at the thrill of it. 

Zer0 pulls his finger off the trigger (presumably to keep Axton's teeth from rattling out of his skull) and does that head-tilting thing again, like a bird sizing up its prey. He doesn't so much slide the barrel in as slowly push it to the back of Axton's throat, and Axton can’t help the roll of his hips when he feels the strain, the harsh solid press of it against the muscle there. He gags-- just a little, just enough to adjust-- and swallows hard against the resistance.

Zer0 makes this low clicking noise and pulls the gun out _again._ Axton's throat closes around empty air almost in protest and he sputters, coughing slightly.

“What _now_ ,” he wheezes, squeezing hard around the base of his cock.

Zer0 pauses. “Would you beg for it?” he asks, and Axton calls bullshit on the smooth, even tone of his voice. He's always been good at reading people, but he doesn’t need to be a psychic mastermind or anything to know that if you're _asking_ someone to beg for you, you're into that kind of thing.

It's not like it's a surprise, considering Zer0's whole aesthetic.

Axton snorts despite himself. “I don't beg, sweetheart.” He _doesn't_ , at least not anymore. And then, because he can't keep his damn mouth shut, he says, “Although I'd like to see you try and make me.”

Zer0 honest to god perks up at that. He shits you not, the bastard's whole body lights up with an enthusiasm he only ever sees when the guy is on a murder spree, and before he knows which way is up Zer0's got a fist in his shirt and a pistol to his head. He shakes Axton once, roughly, jarring the fingers in his ass and causing him to curse.

“Fuck, Zer0,” he says, hearing that low, strange noise coming from the assassin once more. It's not quite a growl-- too separated for that-- and not for the first time Axton wonders what's under that motocross ninja outfit of his, because it's an inhuman noise, one that sends a thrill of fear down his spine, makes his hand stutter just once on his now impressively hard dick before squeezing at the base and pulling _up._ At the same time, he curls those fingers inside of him, rubbing right up against his prostate and making his eyes roll up into the back of his head. His hips roll, too, down and back up, chasing his fingers and the drag of his hand.

The fist twisted in his shirt grips a little tighter. The gun to his head twitches, ever so slightly. and when Axton refocuses his eyes back on the other he sees Zer0's gaze pointed down towards the covers. The _covers._ For the first time since this whole whatever this is started, it dawns on him that Zer0 might actually want a peek at the show. It sounds impossible, he knows, but the evidence is right there, staring at the obvious tent in the blankets. Caution, or what some people might call common sense, would probably tell him to stay far the fuck away from that thought, that things have gone far enough as it is, but-- well, they’re already here, and if Zer0 hasn’t killed him for jacking off underneath him yet he doesn’t think pulling back the curtain is going to push things over that edge.

The blanket covering his crotch is a thin slip of a thing, made of cheap synthetic cotton and well on its way towards threadbare. Axton pulls himself up under Zer0, abdominals stretching as he carefully slides out from under the covers, and tries not to hiss when the rough fabric scrapes against the head of his cock. 

He's barely above the blanket when he hears that low, threatening rumble make itself known again, leading him to think he's made the right decision, and he can't bite back the groan that stutters out of him when he sees how hyper-focused Zer0 is on the movement of his hand gliding over the head of his dick.

Under different circumstances the attention would have been enough to make him cocky. He'd preen under such scrutiny-- but as it is he's too damn close to coming to really revel in how good he looks to the assassin. The peak is _there,_ just out of reach-- and as if noticing his frustrations Zer0 redoubles his efforts with the gun, bringing Axton in close with one hand and dipping the other to press the gun's humming charge right up against the root of his dick.

Axton's brain short circuits for the second time. “Fuck!” he hisses. He grabs around the barrel instinctively; rocks his hips against hard, warm steel, and grits his teeth around an unshakable groan.

“Can you come like this?” Zer0 asks.

“Fuck,” Axton hisses again, vehement.

“I'll assume that is a yes," Zer0 replies. "LOL," flashes his LED.

“S-suck my dick,” Axton manages, and curls the fingers inside him hard enough to bruise. He throws his head back, chest arching against Zer0's own, and with a couple of aborted, tiny thrusts into his hand he comes so hard he almost shakes out of his skin.

It's barely over when Zer0 drops him back against the mattress-- before he can even begin to catch his breath. Axton's barely uncrossed his eyes when he sees Zer0 wipe the pistol on the sheets and inspect it before evaporating it back into his SDU.

"What," he snarks, "Not a cuddler?”

He doesn't speak, but Axton is pretty sure Zer0 gives him a last, long once over before vanishing back out into the hall, the heavy metal _thunk_ of the door once again dividing him from the real world, locking him in this strange twilight dimension where shit like this actually _happens_. 

That _did_ happen, right? That wasn't just some strange slag-induced fever dream Axton tricked himself into having? He looks over at his ECHOcomm in a daze, watching the messages scroll through their general chat.

**Gaige** : OMG im soo hungry

 **Maya** : Zer0, did you find him?

 **Zer0** : The commando says / He'll be down in ten minutes. / There’s no need to wait.

 **Salvador** : na we w8 rite ladies  
**Salvador** : 1st meal 2gethr @ our new home

 **Gaige** : omg sal PLS. AXTON BLS.

 **Maya** : Axton, get your puppet strings ready

 **Salvador** : betr hury puta

Axton sighs as he cleans his hands on the already ruined sheets and reaches for his ECHOcomm to finally respond. All his limbs still feel like jelly, like he’s floating just above the old, creaky mattress.

**Axton** : Don't get your panties in a twist I'll be down in five

 **Maya:** Don't you ever say the word 'panties' in this chat ever again

 **Axton:** Sorry sweetheart I'll stop bringing up your weird thong jumpsuit in front of the kids

 **Maya:** Say that to my face.

 **Axton:** I will in five fucking minutes

 **Gaige:** ahem  
**Gaige:** language

Axton rolls his eyes. He's a wreck - hair disheveled, shirt an absolute travesty, not even sure where he lost his pants along the way. But he’ll clean up well enough at least-- they’ve seen him worse, if for very different reasons.

He groans as he teeters out of bed, sore from a good workout and ancient mattress springs, and trips over the pants pooled carelessly on the floor. _Convenient_ , he thinks, and nearly trips _again_ trying to shove his legs through the holes as he hops over to the mirror. 

Rough. He looks rough. But surprisingly clean, at least— no telltale stains or traces of anything condemning. He can work with this. He smooths out his shirt, adjusts the crotch of his pants, and soldiers on to weather the wrath of two hungry harpies and a little man stuffed into the skinny jeans of a seven year old.

As for the whole thing with Zer0, he'll deal with the 'why' of it all later, and for now focus on trying not to self-destruct when he has to look him in the face at dinner-- the first _real_ meal they’ve had since landing on this rock.

He’s always avoided problems better on a full stomach. 

**Author's Note:**

> maya, aloud at the booth in moxxis: i'm gonna kill him. i'm really gonna do it this time.  
> gaige: ok but your jumpsuit really is weirdly sexy for something designed by super repressed monks  
> sal: HOOTS  
> maya:  
> maya:
> 
> come yell at us on [twi](http://twitter.com/r4mathorne) [tter](http://twitter.com/innibriated)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Security Tape: 404](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644532) by [Fernis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernis/pseuds/Fernis)




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